


"I Don't Like Crunchies."

by LadyEmrys



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M, cute halloween fluff, im feeling festive, just some spoopy fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyEmrys/pseuds/LadyEmrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well then, my dear - if you're a witch's cat, where's your witch? Have you lost her?"</p>
<p>
  <i>"Eggsy!"</i>
</p>
<p>For the first time that night - sheepishly stepping around the garden gate and into the soft light spilling onto the cobbled path - Eggsy was starting to regret the face-paint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I Don't Like Crunchies."

"Well then, my dear - if you're a witch's cat, where's your witch? Have you lost her?" 

_"Eggsy!"_

For the first time that night - sheepishly stepping around the garden gate and into the soft light spilling onto the cobbled path - Eggsy was starting to regret the face-paint. 

And the green glitter. 

And the pointed hat. 

They'd seemed a solid bet a few hours ago in his mum's kitchen, after Sophie had demanded that he dress up too because _'whoever heard of a cat without a witch.'_

His mum - _the traitor_ \- had smiled and winked, and told him to play along for one night. Eggsy'd taken one look at Sophie's downtrodden face, and the clock above the sofa, and heaved a sigh, figuring he'd have enough time to rustle something up. He plucked her from the floor - mindful not to catch her tail on the chair - to sit on his lap while she helped him choose what colour of glitter he'd be plastering his face with. 

_They'd settled on green after Sophie spilt the gold and the purple._

Recalling the time-honoured adage, _'Go hard or go home,'_ Eggsy grabbed his mum's compact and began diligently applying a thin layer of pale face-paint, gratefully accepting the old powder brush she offered to dust the glitter across his cheekbones. 

_His sharp eyes darted to the right whenever he heard his mum let out a suspiciously mirthful snort._

Shucking his grey hoodie for a darker one, Eggsy pilfered the black hat from the unsuspecting witch statue propped up by the television and traced his fingertips along the glitter webbing glinting in the light overhead. His thumb caught something sharp near the rim, and as he turned it over he frowned at the wire poking through the binding. 

While Sophie was trying to push their mum's hands away as the older woman fiddled with her daughter's felt ears, Eggsy nabbed some cello-tape and fed the wire back through the opening, taping it in pace and pushing the damaged part to the back of his head. 

Almost twenty minutes later Sophie was still fussing about her costume, and as Eggsy peered through the window to the darkening sky - and cursed the long nights closing in - he spied his bike, chained to the railing a little further down their row of flats. His eyes snapped to the hat-less witch - one long, bony hand clutching a small, wicker broom - and his lips curled at his ingenious plan. 

Eggsy gently prised the broom from spindle-thin fingers, and - armed with the roll of tape - dashed outside to the bike. 

He was just wheeling his creation back along the concrete balcony when his mum appeared at the door with a satisfied Sophie, the pink felt on her inner ear hastily glued back in place. 

Gratification rippled through him at his sister's excitement, and with a warm smile tugging at his lips, he met his mum's proud gaze as Sophie bounced around Michelle's legs, ecstatic that she had 'a real broom!' She fumbled with the handlebars as she tried to haul her little body onto the frame, squeaking as her mum's hands came around her waist and hoisted her up to stand on the downtube. Eggsy swung one leg over the seat and settled behind her, one arm looped around the impatient little girl as she fussed and fidgeted. 

They sped off into the night, through the shallow puddles that the earlier sciffle of rain dappled across the concrete - with Michelle standing at the door, calling after them. 

"Use the lift, babe!" 

"I know mum!" 

"Yeah, but I've seen you use the stairs before, Eggs, don' pretend I 'aven't!" 

"Alrigh' mum!" 

"I mean it Eggsy!" 

_"Ohmahgod - yes mum!"_

With Sophie navigating on the front of his bike, Eggsy obediently made the usual rounds through their estate, and felt much better about his glittery face and hat when he caught sight of Jamal darting round the back of a wall - white ears and cotton tail perfectly matching his little cousin's. 

"Ye'right mate?" He cackled as they cycled past two pink and white tips poking over the wall - and the middle finger raised in response - shouting over his shoulder, "I can still see yer ears, Jam!" 

_"Fuck off, Eggsy!"_

Eggsy rolled to a stop at the end of the next street - one hand grabbing the centre of his handlebars and the other wrapped securely around Sophie and her bulging plastic bag - and was about to turn right when Sophie turned so suddenly that he struggled to keep them balanced. 

"No, go left." 

Eggsy stiffened, eyes darting to the side to cursively survey the walled gardens and neat hedgerows that market the posher end of town. The new developments were separated from the shoddy concrete maze of flats by a field - perpetually overgrown thatch and brambles illuminated by the pale light of the moon above - on one side, and a neat line of ornamental trees on the other, broken by streetlamps - all of them shining brightly, and not a single one flickering in the dark. 

The light of a pumpkin- a proper one, not like the saggy, speckled one he got off Micky's dad at their front door, the kind that would cost twenty quid in a proper grocers - on the porch of the first corner house twinkled invitingly in the gloom, and Sophie was straining to reach the path with the tips of her little feet, trying to push them towards hitherto unconquered trick or treating territory. 

Eggsy relented with a queasy kind of nervousness tugging at his stomach. 

_These ain't our people, Soph, they ain't gonna want us 'ere._

He slowly peddled towards the mouth of the new street, painfully aware of the squeak in his bike and wishing he had taken the time to oil it before they left the house. He propped the bike against the low wall in front of the first house, and lifted the little girl off the frame, chuckling as she raced off up the path and rapped on the glass door. 

He shifted against walls and fences and cold, metal railings, tense shoulders relaxing and queasy stomach settling as he watched his sister utterly enchant the residents with a gap-toothed grin and a twirl to show off her tail. 

_Eggsy hoped they couldn't tell it was made from one of his mum's old jumpers._

She finished each twirl with a giggle and an excited wave in his direction. "That's my big brother. He's my witch!" 

Eggsy returned the wave with a hesitant wave of his hand, and was surprised to be praised for being _'such an attentive young man,'_ and rewarded with an extra bar of chocolate or packet of something squishy being dropped in Sophie's bag. 

They bade farewell to an especially impressed elderly couple, thanking them for the extra packets of Magic Stars, and wheeled the squeaking bike along to the next house on the end of the row. Eggsy peered around the corner and squinted into the orange-tinted night. 

"Last house, babe -it's getting' late." 

Sophie considered the hefty weight of her plastic Spar carrier bag and nodded solemnly. 

As she bounced at his heels, Eggsy's cold fingers struggled with the iron gate, and - propping his bike against the railing - watched her run along the cobbled path to the front door. She was too small for the bell, and couldn't quite reach the glass panel on the door, so she grabbed the letter box and started rattling. 

Eggsy had bent to retie his laces and almost fell forwards at the sound of her startled yell. He leapt from his crouch and made a panicked grab for the railings, preparing to hop the wall, when he saw what had startled her so. 

A little dog had pushed its silky nose through the crack in the door to meet her, and was lapping at her hand while its owner tried to toe it back inside, only to stop as they realised that the tiny visitor wasn't at all perturbed by the tongue licking its way along her arm. 

A low chuckle rounded the door as it was pulled open, attached to someone impossibly tall, their broad shoulders taking up most of the open doorway. 

When he spoke, the man's rich voice sent a pleasant shiver racing along Eggsy's spine. 

_He told himself it was only the chill._

"Hello, my dear, what are you?" He asked kindly, smiling down at the little girl. 

Sophie cracked a wide grin and beamed up at the tall man. "I'm a witch's cat!" she announced proudly. 

The man nodded sagely and pointed to the dog sniffing at Sophie's bag. "Better not tell him that," he warned in a conspiratory whisper, "he's none too fond of cats." 

Eggsy watched his sister giggle as he gripped her hips with both hands. "I'm not a real cat." 

"Well then, my dear, if you're a witch's cat, where's your witch - have you lost her?" 

Sophie rounded on her heels and waved him over with a yell. 

_"Eggsy!"_

The blonde swallowed as he shuffled along the path to stand in the shaft of light spilling through the open door and cupped his hand around his sister's shoulder, lifting his eyes to the man with a self depreciating grin and a quick shrug. 

The jerky movement was all he could muster, his mouth having run dry at the sight of the man standing in front of him. He seemed even taller upon closer inspection - just the step, his muddled brain supplied - his wide shoulders and narrow waist cutting a striking figure in the doorway. Dark hair curled against a high forehead, and as Eggsy's wide eyes traced the curve of the older man's jaw, he could have sworn that the brunette's gaze - and he'd bet any money that those eyes were the richest brown - was doing the same to him over the rim of a pair of tortoiseshell glasses. 

"How on earth did you get roped into looking after this little mite?" 

The brunette finally tore his gaze from Eggsy to peer down at Sophie, and the younger man bit the inside of his cheek as he tried not to stammer in response to the teasing. 

"M'not a mite, I'm Sophie! An' this is my big brother, Eggsy!" 

"Well I'm Harry, and I'm very pleased to meet you both." 

The older man bent low, the fabric of his trousers stretching tight across his thighs, and offered his hand to Sophie. A soft smile tugged at his lips at her enthusiastic shaking. As he braced the other hand on his knee and straightened, Harry reached for Eggsy's hand. 

His palm dwarfed Eggsy's, and the blonde could only hope that his wasn't as damp as he thought. 

The older man's thumb ghosted across Eggsy's knuckles as he withdrew after lingering for a moment just shy of inappropriate, tilting his head as he carefully considered the blonde with a furrowed brow. 

"I'd think you were a little old for trick or treating?" 

Eggsy barely managed a nod at the feeling of being trapped under the brunette's gaze. "M' twenty three." 

Something shifted in the dark eyes as the corner of Harry's lips curled. "Ah, not too old then." 

Eggsy frowned at the joke and Harry grinned. "I drew the line at thirty, though only for want of someone silly enough to come with me. I was certainly wilder then." 

Eggsy found himself smiling back, grateful for the pallor of the face-paint masking the flush rising from his neck and spreading across his cheeks. The orange lamp light flooding the doorway cast a honeyed glow over the crown of the brunette's head, and the younger man fiddled with his keys inside his pocket as he tried not to stare at the lines of Harry's long legs while the older man quizzed Sophie on their route thus far. 

Harry hummed as she pointed in the direction of his estate."What a long way to drag your poor brother, young lady." 

He turned a playful - _flirtatious,_ crowed something in the corner of his mind - smirk to Eggsy, as the younger man struggled to find something funny to say to the gorgeous man in front of him. Harry's dark gaze lingered on the skin above Eggsy's collar - where the blonde knew the face-paint wouldn't cover his blush - before roaming across the sharp jut of the blonde's jaw and over sharp cheekbones, coming to a rest as they met Eggsy's own. 

Harry was the first to remember that they had company. 

He snapped from his stupor and beamed down at the little girl, leaving Eggsy to shake himself free of the spell Harry's heavy gaze had cast. 

"Lets see if I can find something for a witch's cat." 

Harry reached into the hallway and lifted a silver bowl from the sideboard by the door, grinning at Sophie as he rustled through packets and bags, and pulled out a Crunchie. 

He offered her the chocolate bar with a flourish and a bow, winking as she accepted the treat. 

Her face fell as she looked at the gold and purple wrapper. 

"I don't like Crunchies." 

Eggsy dropped to his knees beside her and squeezed her shoulder. "Hey now, baby girl, don't be rude." 

"But Eggsy, they hurt my teeth." 

He was about to apologise to Harry when the older man crouched down to their level and held a broad hand out to Sophie, taking the chocolate bar from her still outstretched palms with a gentle smile. 

"Don't worry, my dear, I'll get you something else." 

He fished from the bowl two bags of Haribo sweets, and as he gave them to her, Sophie darted forwards and smacked her lips against his cheek, tearing off down the path towards the gate with a cry of _'Thank you Mr. Harry_!' 

Eggsy tried not to grin at the startled man as he blinked owlishly at the girl's back. His smile faltered as he realised that no longer had an excuse to stand at the man's door. They straightened at the same time - an awkward silence stretching between them as they hesitated to look at one another - but before Eggsy could shrug his goodbye, Harry stopped him with a warm hand on his shoulder, and turned to fiddle with something on the sideboard. 

He swivelled on his heel to face Eggsy again and, reaching back inside the bowl to pull out another bar of chocolate, pressed the bar and a slip of paper into Eggsy's hand. 

"I hope I'm not being presumptuous," he murmured softly. 

Eggsy stood, frozen, as he peered at the number scrawled across the paper, sure that his pleased flush could be seen beneath the makeup. 

"I - uh" 

"Only- what I mean is- you aren't exactly subtle." 

At Eggsy's stunned - _embarrassed_ \- silence, Harry's face fell. "Unless I'm entirely mistaken in which case I do apologise." He quickly reached out to take the paper back, and Eggsy drew it to his chest with a fervent shake of his head. 

"No!" 

Dark brows climbed high above the rims of Harry's glasses, and Eggsy huffed as he scratched his nails along the back of his neck. 

"I mean - no, sorry - subtly isn't really my thing, but...are you sure?" The blonde ventured hesitantly, glancing past Harry into a lavishly furnished hallway, and down at the undoubtedly expensive leather shoes the man was wearing. 

Harry raked his eyes over the blonde's lowered head, humming softly to draw the younger man's attention back to him, and his eyes lingered with a playful smirk at the glitter brushed across sharp cheekbones. The light of his hallway danced in bright eyes, and caught the soft shift of glitter that had fallen on Eggsy's lips. 

Without a word, Harry leaned forwards, closing the scant gap between them - and when had they gotten so close? - and pressed a chaste kiss to those lips. As he pulled back he drew a thumb across his own lips to wipe away the flecks of shimmering green, and stared down at the specks glinting in the light. 

Dark eyes flickered up to catch Eggsy's startled blue. 

"Very." 

Eggsy stuffed the chocolate in the pocket at his hips and surged forwards to catch Harry's lips again, fisting the soft wool of the older man's jumper and only pulling back when Sophie started yelling for him. 

He flashed a parting grin at the brunette and ran to meet his sister. As they turned the corner of the road, Eggsy glanced back to find Harry still standing in the doorway, one arm raised in farewell. He stopped on the path and returned the wave, his heart fit to bursting at the thought of the number in his pocket. 

Eggsy cycled back to the flat with Sophie chattering happily in front of him, a wide grin splitting his face, completely oblivious to the biting chill of the wind on his cheeks, or the sudden downpour of rain hammering against the pavement. 

_At least it would cool his flush._

They fell through their front door half an hour later to their mum's scolding, softened by the promise of tea and chocolate and somewhere warm to dry off. Eggsy peeled his sodden hoodie from his chest and roughly towelled his dripping hair, as Sophie poured her bag onto the table and began separating the sweets into two piles, trying to squirm out of her mum's grip as Michelle diligently dried her hair. 

Eggsy laid a gentle hand on hers and shook his head. "Nah, babes, they're yours." She frowned, but before she could protest he smirked and reached into his pocket. 

"I got mine." 

He had, in fact. 

_All over the inside of his pocket._

His heart stuttered as he gazed at the mush in his hand, the melted bar leaking through his fingers and onto the table. While Michelle fussed at the state of his jeans, Eggsy cradled the piece of stained paper in his palms. 

_The number was completely illegible._

No amount of tea or chocolate - or even the two little bags of Haribos that Sohpie'd gotten from Harry, offered with such understanding that Eggsy was floored, and then choked up - could make up for the loss of Harry's number. 

_So fuckin' stupid! Why'd I put 'em in the same pocket!_

He spent that night tossing in his sleep, glancing at the clock to see the turn of every hour, and by the time morning came, Eggsy was shattered, but determined. 

If Michelle noticed anything strange, it was only that her son's nervous jittering was watching knowingly by Sophie, and she couldn't help but feel that her little daughter knew something she didn't. Her son's worried eyes were darting from the toast on his plate, to the clock on the wall and back again, as he stuffed his breakfast into his mouth with an enthusiasm she'd only ever seen him having on Christmas morning as a child. 

The clock struck eight, and Eggsy was out the door - last half-slice of toast clenched in his teeth, warm butter dribbling down his chin - before Michelle could even offer him his coffee. 

Eggsy's legs ached in protest as he pushed through the cold morning to the mouth of Harry's estate, extinguished pumpkins winking at him from porch steps, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the gate swinging on its hinges. He cycled right up the path and to the front door, and had rung the bell before he could even consider the fact that Harry might not even be awake yet. 

_Shit._

As he worried his lip between his teeth, the curtains behind the door were yanked open and the sound of a key fumbling in the lock drew Eggsy back to the task at hand. 

The door was pulled open. 

And Eggsy hadn't a fucking clue what he was supposed to say. 

Any and all trains of thought were completely derailed at the sight of the older man - hair ruffled by sleep, red dressing gown pulled into a loose knot at his waist to frame the deep 'V' of a tantalisingly exposed chest - blinking at him in the low morning light. 

"I lost the number!" Eggsy blurted, and staggered back onto the lower step as Harry barked a laugh. 

And kept laughing. 

His breath came in gasps and wheezes, white teeth flashed, his dark eyes crinkled, and as they cracked open to stare at the befuddled blonde, Eggsy was pleased to note he was right. 

_The richest brown. Like fine whiskey._

The younger man was just starting to wonder if he should be hurt by the older man's reaction, when Harry's hand reached out to grab his own, long fingers curling around his palm and squeezing gently. 

"Sorry," he choked, shaking his head and raising the other hand to wipe the tears from the corner of his eyes. 

He chuckled again at Eggsy's deep frown, and pointed to the bike lying against the top step. 

_The tiny broom was still taped to the frame._


End file.
